


You're Not Going Anywhere

by Desdimonda



Category: StarCraft
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5820946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was the result of a prompt on Tumblr from an anon which was the line 'You're not going anywhere'. I also recommend listening to 'Hold Me Down' by Halsey while reading this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Not Going Anywhere

The breath of morning crept along Artanis’s skin, goading him from his sleep. Limbs, lazy and languid slipped across his bed and touched the skin of another. His hearts paused in their rhythms, registering the presence at his side; Alarak.

Sleep still had it’s grip on the Highlord as Artanis moved, pushing the sheets off his skin.

Or so he thought.

Alarak’s hand gripped his wrist like a vice, his ebony claws catching his skin.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

The Heirarch made to protest, but Alarak granted him not a word, not a chance to move nor breathe as he pulled Artanis’s body across the bed in one rough motion, securing him in place with his thighs.

Claws, long and untamed sank into Artanis’s shoulders as Alarak leaned forward, his cords sliding down his arm, inch, by, inch, until they met Artanis’s chest with a gentle, thud.

“You are staying right here,” he growled against the Heirarch’s face, watching the flicker of his blue eyes that betrayed the tempestuous desire beneath his skin. 

Artanis said nothing, but he fought; pulling, pushing at the flesh binds Alarak had on his body. The feigned effort drew out a long, melodic laugh from the Highlord. The sensation of his lover struggling between his legs, his erect desire, swelling with each movement pressed against Alarak’s slit, desperate, cloying for him was intoxicating.

He pressed down, harder, his hands splaying across Artanis’s shoulders, ceasing the Heirarch’s movements. Artanis whimpered, arching his back as he pushed the tip of his cock into the seeping wet slit of his lover. Alarak laughed.

“You have no patience,” he hissed and pulled back, releasing his hold, but only for a breath. For in that breath he whipped Artanis around, pressing his face into the bed with a grunt of force. With a slash of his claws, he tore at the bed sheets, bringing a long strip of cloth to his hands. He wrapped it around Artanis’s neck, holding him in place with his knees, for Artanis struggled - he fought back at the binds - but it was all feigned, part of their play, of their turbulent desire, singing the air with their psionics.

Alarak tugged on the cloth bound around his lovers neck and could barely contain himself as he watched his body contort, accompanied by the impassioned moan and swathe of psionics, dripping in desire that overwhelmed him. But he waited - just that little bit more and in haste, bound the end of the cloth around Artanis’s wrists, tying them together as he completely subdued his lover.

His thighs were wet from the anticipation, and as he pushed apart Artanis’s legs with his knees, he could feel the slick, wet arousal had escaped his lover’s slit already. By the gods, he was begging. 

Alarak drew his body back and in one long, eager motion, thrust inside his lover, leaning forward as he sank his claws back into his shoulders, keeping him in place as he pounded, mercilessly. 

From the force of his thrusts, Artanis’s back began to arch, his knees bending as his face buried further into the soft, luxurious fabric of the torn bedding. The cloth bit into his neck, scoring the skin and tearing at his wrists. Artanis pulled, tightening the sensation around his neck. Alarak had seen the motion and he groaned against Artanis’s neck, pressing further down onto his shoulders, the claws nicking at the skin, leaving a trail of hot, blue blood.

Alarak was almost there; by the gods, he wanted this to last forever, but he could feel the swell of his pleasure almost peak. He grunted, pressing the full weight of his body against Artanis, wanting to feel himself inside every inch of his lover. Their wet arousal slicked their skin, staining the sheets and filling the air with it’s tart, familiar smell. 

He could feel Artanis shudder beneath him, the tips of his crest were pink and his moans were erratic. His words were unintelligible; the only word he could make out was his name being cried out as he felt Artanis’s body contort as he reached his climax, spending himself all over his stomach and bed.

Alarak closed his eyes, savouring the sensations of his climaxing lover. The shudders, the shift in his scent, the swathe of his desire and the erratic spikes of his psionics. It was glorious. It had taken all his strength to last, to drink in his lovers climax for this last, rough thrusts, before be too joined Artanis at the heady reaches of his climax. He drew his hands around Artanis’s shoulders as he pressed his body to his back, embracing him so they lay as one.

“Right, here,” he breathed against Artanis’s neck, tugging on the cloth, biting at his soft, blue skin. “With me.”


End file.
